Twinfic story, part II

[thrihyrne]

Or in which we discover that George is good at potions, and Fred cannot self-censor worth a whit. And probably never will.

(further edited on May 7th. I'm hoping that a long-future Britpick will ensure that my phrases are legit.)

II. October

George aimed his wand at the flames under the cauldron and watched them subside until their glowing blue flickers were barely visible. Casting a hovering and shadowing charm on a mid-sized hourglass, he stepped away from the impromptu potions lab by his bed and traversed the room to the opposite window, the timer gliding along behind him. His other project was nearly complete, and he smiled in satisfaction, leaning over a heated tray. He checked that the color was what it should be, a shining tawny brown, before using a makeshift spatula to lift it onto a small serving dish.

The door to the room flung open.

“Hey!” Lee’s voice rang from the doorway. “That smells great, for once! What are you concocting today?”

“Grilled cheese and tomato,” George replied, his mouth full.

“Y’know, you could have just come to lunch,” Fred commented, dropping several rolls of parchment on his bed. “I couldn’t imagine that you were still in the library. What we’re making isn’t complicated enough to warrant spending quality time with Madame Pince.”

George swallowed his bite of sandwich, then gave his brother an affronted look. “Somebody had to babysit this particular potion. I’m glad it was me or we would have had little more than boiled custard a la dragonsbane. And you know that ingredient didn’t come cheap.”

Charlie, trying to resurrect some peace in his family even from another country, had agreed to send them the tradeable-only, illegal substance on the condition that they contractually vowed not to send anything suspicious or dangerous to Percy. “As though we’d waste our precious time and energy on mailing dungbombs - or anything - to Tripe,” Fred had muttered, and signed the agreement next to George’s scrawl.

“Hrmph,” Fred acknowledged, then looked out the window. “Who’s practising on the pitch?” **(author's question: can they see the pitch from their window??)**

“Slytherins,” Lee said, collapsing onto his bed. “They’re not improved over last year, but I must say that, no offence to the Weasley name, little Ronnie has launched the team into new levels of mediocrity.”

“Don’t remind me,” Fred groaned, snaking out his hand to grab a bit of George’s sandwich, but George batted it away. “He’s dismal.”

“Not all the time,” George said in his defense. Fred cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, most all the time.”

Fred snorted. The hourglass made a small chiming sound and George shoved the rest of the grilled cheese into his mouth before walking back to the cauldron. After extinguishing the flames, he got a spoon to stir the viscous contents, counting the rotations under his breath.

Lee and Fred spoke disparagingly of the current state of the Quidditch teams at the school for a few minutes before Fred approached the table and peered over George’s shoulder.

“Now what?” Fred asked, eyeing the cauldron.

“It needs to sit, undisturbed and covered for four days. Reckon I’ll put it in the back corner of the loo.”

“It’s not going to suddenly explode while any of us are in there starkers, is it?” Lee asked, looking apprehensive.

“Oh you faithless friend!” Fred exclaimed, clapping an arm around George. “Georgie here is brilliant.” George grimaced at the nickname. “I am the Master of Galleon Management, as well as coming up with a never-ending string of ideas for products. George here, with his non-Hogwarts-appreciated exceptional wizarding skills, makes it all work.”

Lee was forced to smile. “You two are quite a pair. Multitalented.”

George leaned back against the wall. He paused to think before speaking, a new and odd habit which unexpectedly and inexplicably manifested itself on occasion. “There’s still room for a third, y’know,” he said, hope creeping from his chest and into his voice. “Can’t you just see it? Three carefree bachelors, the world at our feet, each day an adventure. Bollocks, but we’d share some good times after getting out of this prison they call a school.”

“Cause some riots, I reckon,” Fred grinned evilly.

“A different girl each day!” Lee chimed in with enthusiasm.

“Who could resist us?” George added, spreading his wide hands on Fred and Lee’s shoulders.

Silence descended upon the room, and George’s enthusiasm was smothered by the reality of the situation.

“Now, mates, you know I would,” Lee said, looking first at Fred, then George, a confusion of wistfulness and determination battling in his expression. “But this is your dream. Being a match announcer is never going to make me rich, but it’s what I want. My dream.”

Fred offered up a rueful smile. “Merlin knows, we could be in and out of business in a year and you’d suddenly find yourself with Gred and Forge again, like it or not.”

George turned to look at him, shocked. “You’ve never said anything like that before!”

Fred shook his head as though to dislodge an irritating insect, or shard of honesty.

“Momentary lapse into drama.” He sighed. “Must’ve been channeling Ginny. Wrong Weasley.”

Lee coughed, looking from twin to twin with an awkward gaze.

“Between a never-ending succession of perfect prefects and the youngest generation who obviously don’t have nearly the good sense in making friends that we do, I guess we’ve found our niche.” George loosed his brother and his best friend. “I’m taking this to the bathroom.”

Using his wand, he levitated the cauldron and, clasping his DADA text in his right hand, walked toward their bathroom. Once there, he lowered the sludgy substance into a neglected corner against the far wall then placed the book on top. Ought to write a note to the house-elves, too, he considered. Can’t have them mucking it up.

George passed one of the mirrors above the sinks and paused to look at himself. As weird as it might seem, he really didn’t know what he looked like, despite the fact that most people assumed he was constantly looking into a mirror when he looked at Fred. Hags’ hounds, he thought, disgusted, I only see Fred. My brother. Not me.

George stared, categorising what stared back at him. Wide face, light eyes, freckles. Stubbled cheeks and chin, the latter with a small cleft. Hair, that damnable and immediately recognisable colour and that certainly needed a trim. Ears that stuck out. Not hideous, but certainly not anyone would call attractive. Irresistible, my arse, he contemplated when he saw Fred swing into the doorway.

“You’re gorgeous. Now let’s go charm some ladies by the lake while we have this decent weather, shall we?”

***

That evening in the common room, the trio were showing off a new prototype, a deck of cards charmed to a spoken keyword to reveal nubile witches wearing precious little clothes and writhing or winking to the cardholder. Too many of the boys in the younger Gryffindor classes showed interest in them and kept clustering near the table where Lee, Fred and George were playing a rather demure game of Hearts. Hermione kept patrolling the room, positively growling, while the Queen of Spades continually unrolled black stockings down her legs, only to pull them back up again. After an hour or so, George pocketed the contraband deck to play regular exploding snap with Lee. Fred sequestered himself near them in a high-backed chair with a long parchment and quill. George knew that he hadn’t tallied their expenditures in days, and for all of Fred’s spontaneity and generosity, he wanted to know how every knut had been spent, and where they stood from a fiscal vantage point. He really should work at Gringott’s, George mused, but knew that he didn’t really mean it. They simply had never had any money before now, and they knew this could well be the only time they did. They could not afford any mistakes.

“Hey,” George asked. “Where’s towel-head?”

In tandem, Lee replied, “Trying to be the first Gryffindor to defect to Hufflepuff,” while Fred deadpanned, “Practicing his skills at ‘hide the sausage’ with Leonora.”

Hermione, Ron and Harry had all been hovering over some book near the fire when Hermione’s head snapped around.

“Fred Weasley,” she fumed, as Ron’s face turned a disturbing shade of fuscia and Harry gaped. “There are first years here. First Years!”

“Why, yes there are,” Fred scoffed. “With such exception skills of observation, no wonder you were chosen as prefect. Still doesn’t explain Ron, though.”

Lee inhaled a laugh which soon exploded in a series of throat-clearings while he rubbed at his eyes. George glanced over at Ron, who was fuming and resisting his friends’ attempts at pacification.

“And no wonder why you lot are constantly on your own,” Alicia taunted, though she leaned down, perching her elbows on Fred’s shoulders to speak into his ear. “You all have such delightful, charming manners.”

Angelina chuckled from another part of the room, and George felt a prickling on the back of his neck as though he were being watched. As Lee regained his composure and the room resumed its normal din, George turned around and saw Thalia smirking benevolently at him, curled up sideways in a chair.

Fred instinctively followed his gaze, and after giving George an “this should be good” wink, shouted, “Oy! Thalia! Don’t you think we’re a charming, delightful lot?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I have older brothers. Don’t think I haven’t heard such commentary before. It takes more than that to embarrass me.” After brushing some hair out of her eyes, she continued, “And yes, at least one of you have been known to be charming on occasion.”

George let the words settle into a rather stunned part of his brain while he watched Fred start to make what was sure to be a provocative parry. Until suddenly Hermione was standing there, planted in front of Fred, hands on her hips and wand clutched in her hand with a grip so tight her knuckles stood out pink against her pale skin.

“Don’t think I won’t banish all three of you from the common room,” she threatened. “First testing your potentially dangerous products on innocent children, and now using incredibly vulgar language…”

“Now, now,” George found himself saying, walking over and pulling her to him, his hand grasped firmly to her hip. “You would miss us. Who else would you pick on? It would become dreadfully boring.”

Hermione harumphed, but her posture untensed against him, and George nodded imperceptibly at Fred.

“Anyway,” Fred drawled, “you know I’m right. He probably is knackering around in The Duchess' knickers.”

“FRED!” Hermione squealed as he uncurled from the couch, picked up his scroll and quill, and left the room, an uncompromised grin on his face.

“He’s incorrigible,” George apologised to the back of her head as she had shrugged out of his embrace and was stalking across the room.

Lee stood and stretched, faking an enormous yawn. “Yes, time for bed, lads and lassies.”

A few students waved at them, and George made one last scan before heading up the staircase. Angelina rolled her eyes, and Thalia made a mock gesture of submission, throwing the back of her hand to her forehead and mouthing, “my hero.”

As George turned and started up the stairs, he was suddenly struck by the thought of her saying that again with a much more serious expression on her face and wearing many fewer clothes. As a shiver ran through him, he doubled his pace up the stairs. Ridiculous, he chastized. You heard her, she has older brothers, that’s how she sees you, nothing more. He could hear Fred and Lee rehashing the scene as he entered their room, and moments later, he was doing the same.

After checking up on the potion, George bid all three of his roommates goodnight. Even smug Kenneth had been welcomed back into the fold, appearing rumpled and right on the cusp of their curfew, but exuding happiness. He had half-heartedly threatened Fred with one of the more obscure and definitely personal hexes he had learned while studying Ancient Runes for “sullying his good name,” but after weathering a couple of taunts, they all settled down for the night.

George dreamt of sunsets, and freckles and fire-breathing dragons; a sanguine flecked kaleidoscope of imagery whose colours he could never escape.

He didn’t remember any of it in the morning.

Comments

[celandineb.livejournal.com]

I don't read a lot of HP fic, I admit (and what I do read tends to be dark slashy stuff), but I enjoyed these!

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

You are goddess among such exalted beings, and thanks for taking the time to read this. Slashy and dark this is not (though I do have dark and angsty HP to offer you, and only one slashy story which probably needs work), but I'm so glad that you enjoyed these bits! I'm now working on the author-inspired soundtrack. I figure, I was never born a poor, black child a 17 year old boy, nor a twin, but they inspire me. I'll have heaps for you when you return from our Fair Angleterre!!

Oooh. And you updated Passages. I'll just send you emails anyway. How long are you in England, again? *facepalms*

[celandineb.livejournal.com]

Er... which exalted beings were those?

I do like HP very much - in fact I was just reading a chapter of CoS to hubby for him to fall asleep to - and part of the reason I don't read much fic in the fandom is that there's simply way, way, too much out there. So reading something by someone I know - much more manageable. Especially when it's someone I know can write a good story. ;-) What's the name of the slashy one, and where?

There's a vague possibility I might actually write something in the HP-verse someday - every time I interact with resonant8 I get ideas for really distant backstory having to do with witches in England about the time of the Norman Conquest. But it's always the time-to-write thing.

I'll be in England for 11 weeks... but if I can write during that time, then I'll be able to post it all once I get back! Feel free to send emails or post online or whatever... I plan to try to get online from internet cafes or such every week if I can, but I don't know for sure how often or for how long I can manage it. Internet cafes hardly existed the last time I was over there, so it'll be a new thing for me.

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

Er... which exalted beings were those?

Those who read my writings. :) And whose opinions I actually care about.

part of the reason I don't read much fic in the fandom is that there's simply way, way, too much out there.

I've been emailing with miraminx about that very topic; I had thought that Tolkien fandom was huge, but it's nothing compared with HP fandom. Yikes!

What's the name of the slashy one, and where?

Um... it's titled "Unleashed." It's a R/S story, set during OotP. It's at skyehawke.com, restrictedsection.org and DeeDee's archive which has *frustratingly* slipped my mind because it's in an adult-only section and has clever firewalls to keep out the children. Or I could just email it to you. It was my first attempt at male slash, but apparently isn't too dismal.

There's a vague possibility I might actually write something in the HP-verse someday - every time I interact with resonant8 I get ideas for really distant backstory having to do with witches in England about the time of the Norman Conquest. But it's always the time-to-write thing.

Well, her story "Transfigurations" was the most recent HP story I recc'ed. Fabulous stuff. And her triosmut is, well, fanworthy. Not just in admiration, but in actually needing something with which to cool oneself off. I'd love to see you write within HPdom, though as you acknowledge, there are only so many hours in the day. And what has struck me, as somebody who only first started writing within Tolkien fandom, I feel as though my brain is full with Tolkien facts and arcana, and I feel like a child trying to write in HP-wizarding land. I have no real grasp on "magic" and the myriad ways in which it can become manifest; I've read many astounding stories which explicate on the possibilities, which only makes me feel as though I can't contribute anything new. Which, I suppose, is why I'm focusing on the twins. They are relatively unexplored phenomena, but ultimately, two teenagers on the cusp of figuring out What To Do Next. It's what I like to write about in the Ardaverse. Obscure, unexplicated characters and time periods. Doesn't mean that anyone else will read it, but it does mean I can get creative within those parameters.

Am now babbling.

Have a wonderful time in England, and I'll look forward to hearing from you in whatever medium you find yourself in. ;)


Be sure to raise a pint to The Professor while you're there.

[celandineb.livejournal.com]

I feel as though my brain is full with Tolkien facts and arcana, and I feel like a child trying to write in HP-wizarding land. I have no real grasp on "magic" and the myriad ways in which it can become manifest

This is just my problem, and one of the big reasons why I haven't tried writing HP fic to date! And also why if and when I do, it's likely to be extremely historical - less chance of dumb canon mistakes. ;-) Oddly enough I suspect I will write on the Malfoy family history - I have Ideas on that.

You're most welcome for the review of "Unleashed" - I'm going to have to bookmark that archive.

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

Oddly enough I suspect I will write on the Malfoy family history - I have Ideas on that.

Ooooh. That piques my interest already!!

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

[oh, and thank you so much for the review of "Unleashed." Glad that you enjoyed it and thought the sex was hot!! ;)]

[helveticat.livejournal.com]

*falls prostrate*

You are the Queen Mum of characters. Dialog is your Anduril. JK should be calling YOU up for beta-reading, is what I think.

(I was beginning to get sort of "blah" about the HP books, but I suddenly feel the urge to pull them off the shelf and start all over again so I can enjoy those wonderful boys).

You know that thing writers do when they put a little phrase of action description after a line of dialog? You do that REALLY well. It's like your whole story is nothing by the high-art form of a Tom Swifty, you know? I don't mean that condescendingly at all. Every time someone speaks, you glue together a bit of action and description so that speaking and acting fuse together to create character. I hope that makes sense. I'm a little blind right now.

she said delightedly...

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

*shakes head*

No, no, no. You have it all wrong. This deluge of dialogue is very uncharacteristic. I'm all about atmosphere, and descriptions. [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] is dialogue mistress. I must be channelling her.

Every time someone speaks, you glue together a bit of action and description so that speaking and acting fuse together to create character. I hope that makes sense. I'm a little blind right now.

It does, and I'm giddy. It was just odd to be driving to pick my husband up from work because I had followed him to the car place at 6:45 a.m. that morning (that would be yesterday) and all I could see and hear were Fred and George and Lee and Kenneth, and the various planets of personas orbiting around them, and I could see and hear them. Actual conversations coming out of their mouths, without too many adjectives. But with just enough insight that as a reader you could feel a bit closer to George since it is from his POV.

High art it isn't. But I have the (probably ignorant) perception that the twins aren't the focus for writers of HP fanfic, outside of twincest, which this won't have. Just being the only non-prefect sons of a family with no money and ideas that make their mother's hair curl.

BTW, it's really fun to read/scan the books looking only for when the twins show up. It's what I did for my copious notes in trying to get a handle on them and their personalities. So much mystery. Heh.

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

Let me edit the prior reply: thank you so much for saying that I should be beta-reading JKR. If I did, I would tell her to restrict her use of the word "bandy-legged" to only once per book. Period.

I'm so glad that you think my dialogue is working. I need to go read your furby story. ;)

[helveticat.livejournal.com]

lmao--you're so funny! :-D

And you're welcome. But, see, you DID do the dialog thing really well. Even if it was a fluke or a weird telepathic moment between you and McJen, you still did it. And from where I stand (actually I'm sitting right now, but who can be picky?), you did a miracle of a job.

I <3 your twins

[romanticalgirl.livejournal.com]

Twinses!!!!

You know my deep and abiding love for the twinses and I share it now with your story. The dialogue is spot-on and amusing, the introspection delicate and not at all out of character.

And of course, I take the Fred/Hermione scene to be a complete shout out to me. That and the fact that Fred is obviously interested in her and just using those moments with Angelina to sublimate about his little brother's potential paramour.

<-- delusional and aware of it.

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

The dialogue is spot-on and amusing, the introspection delicate and not at all out of character.

*wipes brow* I'm so glad you think so. I didn't want it to be completely without any introspection, but I don't want to put phrases in George's inner monologue that are jarring.

<-- delusional and aware of it.

Afraid so. ;) No Fred/Hermione and straight George. I just hope you'll keep reading!!

[romanticalgirl.livejournal.com]

You say there's no F/H, but that doesn't mean I won't see it. As for George, I'm perfectly content with him being straight, gay or bisexual. George is good that way.

Mmmmmtwinses. Have I said that yet? Is there a part three yet? Gimmeegimmeeegimmeeeeee! Hee.

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

Is there a part three yet?

Not yet, but the dialogue and situations are percolating. Look for an update after the weekend. I'll letcha know. *avoids pokey stick*

[romanticalgirl.livejournal.com]

Wheee!

Is the weekend over yet?

*pokepoke*